Realisation
by greyslostwho
Summary: Sequel to Chronology, but you don't need to have read that. Based on the spoiler we now know about Harry's departure. Oneshot.


**REALISATION**

**Sequel to Chronology. Based on the spoiler we now know about Harry's departure. Oneshot.**

**I used Realize by Colbie Caillat as the backing track for it, if anyone's interested :) Check it out, it's a beautiful piece of music.**

He hasn't told her until now, 96 hours before his flight, because that's the coward's way out, and when it comes down to it, he's a coward. He's terrified of her reaction, terrified that he'll somehow let her down; he'll be less than she expected. She'll realise everything in those few moments, and any thought she might have had in the past, anything she might have dreamt up between them – he can only hope – will be annihilated, destroyed.

"…and my flight's Monday, Nikki. I fly out Monday afternoon."

And he's finished, all those facts he has to tell her about him leaving, and she hasn't said a word. With hindsight, he'll think it was the shock of all of it, but at the time he can't think wide enough to realise that he's her best friend, the one person she's allowed herself to get attached to since her childhood, and he's just throwing the fact that he's leaving almost instantly on her, and even a brain as efficient as hers needs a few minutes to process something that huge, something so devastating.

In the moment of silence, he thinks about everything that could have been. Every chance they haven't taken, every moment that he could've, quite easily, stepped forward and taken her in his arms – and looking back on things, he suspects she wouldn't have struggled, she wouldn't have resisted, she'd have been waiting for it. There were so many moments the two of them should have taken, for the benefit of both of them.

He can't take the silence any longer; it almost feels poisonous in the air.

"Nikki?" he hates himself a little for the tone of voice her name comes out in, it doesn't sound apologetic enough, and he's got so much to apologise for, it almost seems unsure, and in reality, there should be nothing to be unsure about… he knows too well everything he's throwing away, everything that could've been…

"Wwhat?" she manages to choke, and he'd rather convince himself he hasn't noticed, but her eyes are filling with tears. She looks so defeated already, as if she's already resigned to having no hope to change anything. Something in him, somewhere, underneath everything, wants her to argue, wants her to beg him to stay. He thinks she might be the only person in the world that could change his mind.

"I'm leaving on Monday." He reinstates, and he sounds like such an arse when he says it, repeating the devastating news, but he's got nothing else. He needs a reaction from her.

"You said we still had time…" is her response, and it's hardly more than a whisper.

"Time for what? What is this, Nikki?" He almost laughs at himself, then, because that could mean so much, that question could have so many different levels.

"I thought we had time, and then it was stolen… and I thought you were dead… and then you tell me we still have time, reassure me, and now you're going to take it away from me? That's all I mean to you?"

He doesn't have an answer for a few seconds, and in that time delay she seems to have regained her strength, regained her composure, she's shaking her head at him, running her hands through her hair, looking less lost, less broken, stronger, regardless.

He wraps his arms around her then, because he's run out of words, and it's not like any other time he's hugged her – she doesn't react, she doesn't lift her arms to meet him, and somehow she feels colder, harder, slightly more alike to a statue than to the woman he's had in his arms before…

…and always wished he could have in his arms for other reasons, always wished in the back of his mind that there'd be something more between them, one day. It hits him then that the moving to New York means that he'll never get there, that that's something that will always remain a dream, something out of reach.

"Nikki, I-"

She steps away, turning a shade of grey now. She looks older than she's ever looked before, he decides, because she looks irrevocably tired. The guilt makes him feel sick to his stomach – he's tired her out, he's exhausted her.

"We had all that time, and we never did anything with it…" she shakes her head, at herself, at the pair of them. She seems to consider something for a moment, and then thinks better of it, turning her head slightly away, lowering her gaze.

There's another silence, and then he swallows, and says the only thing he can think of.

"I'm sorry."

She rests her head against his forehead, an echo of the events in Hungary, the joy in finding out he was alive, trying to feel as close as possible to him.

"I'll miss you." She whispers, and it's such an understatement, and in some ways it could be a way of saying so much more… he thinks then, in those moments, that _I miss you _isn't really all that different to _I love you, _and he supposes that could be what she's trying to say, what they're both thinking, but nothing's ever going to come of it now, so there's no point speaking the words. Neither of them will gain anything. He holds her in his arms for a long time, in silence, and then they go about the next few days as normal as possible, trying to plaster false smiles on their faces, as if they're trying to pretend this isn't happening.

She takes him to the airport in the end, and she waves him off, forcing that smile to stay on her face, willing the tears to stay in her eyes.

And then he's gone, he's round the corner, through the gates, and he's left her. She's alone.

"I miss you already."

**Sorry it's angsty, you might be going to get a happy AU on Harry's decision not to bugger off to New York at some point. Would love some feedback!**


End file.
